


ABC's of Sabriel Drabbles

by misha_collins_butt



Series: ABC Drabbles [5]
Category: Supernatural, sabriel - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Background Destiel, Bondage, Bottom!Sam, CEO!Sam, Child Sam, Deaf!Sam, Fingering, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Frottage, Hurt/Comfort, Intern!Gabe, M/M, Mild Kink, Mild non-con, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, Painplay, Pranks, Profound, Roleplay, Sabriel - Freeform, Smut, These suck, Top!Sam, bottom!gabe, eat my tampons, established Destiel, established sabriel, handjob, human!Gabe, hurt!GAbe, idk just read it, losers - Freeform, mild pwp, sam/gabe - Freeform, top!gabe, yikes this is a lot, you thirsty assholes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-10 04:00:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 26
Words: 18,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20128996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misha_collins_butt/pseuds/misha_collins_butt
Summary: FINALLY, AMIRITE?! If these were physical books, I'd probably toss this at you and tell you to knock yourself out lmao but I'm not that mean in person. Anyway, here's your Sam/Gabe drabbles. For now, that's all the ships I really write about in depth, but if I get a new one, I'll do those drabs too.First story summary: teasing each other at the gym.





	1. Active

**Author's Note:**

> Also also also  
I was reading all my old fics and I?? Used be a great writer? Idk WHAT happened there. And everyone was so nice to me! I got so many comments! Most of which, admittedly, were people saying I made them cry, bUT THAT'S THE GOAL OF BEING A FANTASTIC WRITER! TO MAKE PEOPLE CRY! I CAN'T SEEM TO DO THAT ANYMORE!!
> 
> My point is, pls comment something nice on like one of these if you have time. I could use the confidence bc I have a lot more stories I want to post.

Gabriel groans as he slides down the back wall of the public gym. His hair is matted with sweat and he feels like if he tries to stand up, he might genuinely die. And he's a literal angel, so that's not something he typically feels.

His human is seated on a weight lifting bench nearby, elbows on spread knees, sweat dripping furiously from his face and hair, an open water bottle in hand. He's panting to catch his breath, one thing that Gabriel is grateful he will never have to do. 

As an angel, the notion of working out is more often than not motivated by vanity - just because an angel only has a few select meat suits at any given time does not mean said angel has to chin up and accept what it looks like. For angels, working out isn't about health, like it is for Gabe's nutjob boyfriend (who, admittedly, might be onto something with this whole 'health' thing, considering his...erm...endurance), because angels don't need their host to be healthy. Not really. It's not like angels have to run or be able to climb things, or have a desire to live past 60, because those are human problems. Human problems do not affect angels, save for vanity.

But Gabe didn't do this for vanity. Gabe did this for Samity. His Sam. The one that's helping him up off the ground with his strong, healthy arms. Gabe doesn't protest, though he's certain he will never be able to walk again - angels have a magnificent sense of smell, and being that close to the floor meant Gabe could smell every atom of disgusting foot mould and stranger sweat that wafted from its padded fibres. 

"You look exhausted," Sam says plainly as they trudge to the showers. "You need me to carry you the rest of the way?"

Gabriel just fixes him with a blank stare that screams 'fuck you _and_ them damn treadmills' which gets a chuckle out of his beanstalk sized partner.

As they claim a spacious shower stall and strip away their damp laundry, Sam mumbles, "Would it make you feel better if I gave you a blowjob?"

Gabe is not a stranger to public sex. He's been around far longer even than the entire human race. He's been around the block a few times. But Sam has always been exactly the goody-two-shoes, clean-nosed academic that Gabriel needs to stay balanced on the right side of angel-human history. So when Sam says this, Gabriel nearly topples over peeling off his sock.

"Sam!" He chastises.

Sam's laugh echoes in the empty shower hall, and he pulls Gabe in with a warm smile and a sweet, summery kiss. 

"I think I like you like this. Maybe I should bring you here more often," Sam mockingly muses, then chuckles when Gabriel widens his eyes in horror. "Okay, I promise I won't bring you here that often. But you are incredibly fun mess with when you're frazzled."

Gabriel rolls his eyes, though his lips tug into a little smile. 

And as they turn on the water and begin scrubbing the sweat away, Gabriel comments lightly, "So I think I heard something about a blowjob?"


	2. Bruit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first long chapter of the series.
> 
> College freshman Sam confronts popular senior Gabriel about some widespread rumours that they screwed. How better to deal with it than to just...screw?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bruit  
(Brōōt)  
•Verb  
-to spread a rumour widely

"If you didn't start it, then who did?" Sam Winchester demands distrustfully, arms crossed protectively over his chest. His hazel eyes are shooting daggers through Gabriel's head, as if imagining murdering the college senior night actually make him drop dead. "You know what? I don't care. Doesn't matter what you say, because I know you did it. You've always been an ass to my brother, why would you stop at me."

The freshman pushes away from Gabe's dorm wall and pivots to walk out. Gabriel almost doesn't stop him...almost.

"Please, wait," his voice so tiny that he feels every ounce of fight rushing away from him with the air he breathes out.

Sam does. A splinter of hope stabs at Gabriel's heart.

"You say it wasn't you," Sam mutters, back still turned on Gabe. As he turns back around he softly quips, "Why should I believe you?"

Gabe lets his lips split, sheepish gaze on the oak tree of an 18 year old waiting patiently for his answer in the doorway. 

When Gabe hesitates to admit his thoughts, Sam begins to back over the threshold again but Gabe is not about to start being a coward now. 

"Because if I wanted you to sleep with me, you already would have," he offers reluctantly, eyes flickering downward. "And there certainly wouldn't be rumours. You don't have to believe me, but I promise, I don't know where it came from. Maybe some drunk ass at the party a few weeks ago saw me with that Dylan kid. He's got the same...haircut," Gabe gestures lazily toward Sam, still not meeting his eyes, "but he's not as tall, so...I don't know." 

When he finally does muster the courage to look up, Sam's eyes have softened, though his jaw still clenches with mild doubt. And after a very long, strenuous moment, he uncrosses his arms, shoves his hands in his pockets, and nods.

"Okay," he whispers. "Okay, I believe you. I don't trust you, but I believe you." They don't speak for another agonising, silent minute. Sam seems to be lingering, like he has something more to say. 

They speak suddenly, simultaneously.

"Do you--"

"I'm not--"

They both chuckle. Gabe nods to Sam, letting him go first.

"I guess I just...um..." the younger boy stammers, hand scrubbing the back of his neck. His entire face blooms subtle pink under the harsh lights of Gabe's dorm. "D-do you? Want to?" When Gabriel's eyebrows fold together, the lanky teen continues, "Sleep with me, I mean. Just...like...as a hypothetical..."

Gabe's stomach leaps upward, cramming his heart into this throat. 

His voice cracks when he replies, "I don't know how to answer that."

Sam lets out a low chuckle and remarks, "With a yes or a no, I would assume."

Right. Gabe should've seen that coming. This is the infamous Dean Winchester's younger brother. The younger brother who is majoring in criminal law. Of course he's sharp-tongued and quick-witted. 

"I meant, it's not that simple," Gabe breathes, feels his cheeks heating up. "I've known your brother since high school. If I...if I did that...with you..."

Sam catches on and nods slowly, finishing Gabe's thought, "He would tear your throat out and eat it for breakfast. Yeah, I...I know how he is." Sam's face twists into a mischievous smile and he adds, "Can you blame him? After all, I'm just sweet, innocent little Sam, who's never done anything reprehensible in his entire life." Sam steps back into the room and crosses it this time, finding his way to the chair at Gabe's desk where the older man leans back against the edge. "Can I tell you a secret?"

The question is so abrupt and the kid's eyes so shiny and honest that Gabe just nods without even thinking.

"He thinks I'm still this...clueless little kid that needs protecting. But I tried everything I could the first chance I got. I mean, by the time I was 14 I wasn't even a virgin anymore." Gabriel throws him a mildly horrified look and Sam smiles and continues, "I know, way too young. But if you knew all the other shit I was doing around then too, you wouldn't be so surprised." Sam's gaze is trained on his jeans, where he picks at the fabric with shockingly manicured fingernails, a strange contrast to his older brother's chewed up nails. "I guess what I'm trying to say is...whatever your answer is, it won't leave this room. And...and if it's yes..." he shrugs languidly, "well, it's not like he can stop us, right?"

Gabriel blinks. Is this kid on something? It takes a second to realise he's been staring at the freshman a bit longer than necessary. And somehow drifted closer. Damn his body for giving him away.

Shyly, Gabe responds, "Yes." He pushes away from his desk and stands in front of Sam, dropping his hands to his sides, not really sure what to do with them. Then, without his prompting, "Do you think...I could kiss you?"

Sam's lips twitch into a smile. He carefully pulls Gabe down into his lap by the waist. The chair creaks under their combined weight but neither cares, not when they're suddenly just millimetres apart. 

In a moment of madness, lips slide together. Gabe gift wraps Sam's neck in his arms, Sam's hands comb up through Gabe's hair. For a second, the room around them crumbles away and spins into a black hole of irrelevance. That is, until Gabe remembers the door is still open.

He hops up with a wince and rushes across the room.

"Sorry," he mutters as he shoves the ancient door closed and flicks the lock into place. 

Sam only stands from the chair, swivel trunk squeaking with the movement, clears the room in four giant steps, plants his hands on either side of Gabe's face, and smashes their lips together again. 

Gabe has no time to react before he's being goddamn airlifted to his bed, and Sam is lying on top of him, with two hard-ons between them. From then, it's all happy gasps and dreamy sighs as they slowly undress, trying their best to keep quiet. Not that it's unusual to get caught fucking in college. But this isn't like the other people that Gabe brings back to his thankfully one-person dorm. 

This is Sam. Sam, who's making him writhe in pleasure as he's speckled with kisses and spread open with wet fingers and finally, finally skewered by Sam's astounding endowment. And Sam, who's got him bite his own arm so he won't call out as he comes, untouched but for the younger man pounding into him.

And Sam, who does not leave when they are done and heaving breaths, but gathers Gabriel into his arms and smiles against his ear and whispers, "I'm yours for as long as you want me."

They never do figure out who started the rumour.


	3. Charmer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this at like 1am and literally could not stop laughing. Seriously. I ended up using my inhaler.

"Hey there, handsome," a painfully familiar voice muses from the barstool next to Sam. He looks up as it continues, "Come here often?"

The moment Sam's eyes lock on the man, his face falls in annoyance. Instead of encouraging it, he lets his scalding glare linger, then turns back to his now sticker-less beer without a word.

"Aw, come on, baby. Don't be like that."

When Sam still makes no move to respond, the voice drifts closer to him until lips are right against his ear, murmuring, "Wanna get outta here and--"

Sam swats him away with growing irritation. It's one thing for your boyfriend to hold your hand and kiss your cheek in public, it's another when he tries to roleplay in order to, in his own words, 'cheer you up'. Sam's had a long week and he's not in the mood for these games.

When Gabe doesn't speak again for a while, Sam gets worried that he may have actually hurt the angel's feelings and he whips his head around to make sure Gabe isn't moping. Instead, he finds the blond man watching him intently, side of his face rested against his fist, a smirk denting his lips. Sam rolls his eyes and shakes his head. But Gabriel does not give up that easy.

"I know a sweet little alleyway we could pull a quickie in," Gabe offers, merciless in his eyebrow wiggling. "Right next to a cool dumpster. Found a penny in there once."

That gets a smile out of the hunter, albeit one that he tries desperately to hide so as not to hearten Gabriel's jest. But Gabe just grins, knowing full well he's gotten what he wants. 

"Well?" Gabe prods.

It takes everything Sam has not to burst out laughing. He tries taking a sip of his beer, but Gabe gets right up against his ear again and whispers, "Ya in the market for some dumpster pennies?"

And Sam can't help but finally lose his shit. He spews his sip of beer everywhere and doubles over in hysterics for all of 2 seconds before the bartender shouts "Hey!" and then they really do have to leave because Sam can't control where his spit goes when Gabe is really trying to make him laugh.

As they walk down the sidewalk to the rental car Dean made them get ('No way in hell am I letting you two horny twelve year olds ride around in Baby'), the two men lace fingers and take turns bumping against the other's shoulder. 

Sam doesn't take Gabe up on his dumpster-side handy-j offer, but he'll certainly do all the snuggling Gabe wants when they get home.

And maybe he won't be such a grump...y'know...to avoid any more showers of beer.


	4. Dive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When I came up with what I wanted to write this around, I had to lay down because I couldn't stop laughing again. This was initially the first funny one, but then chapter 3 just sorta happened and I was like oh well, no harm done, now people will just be wheezing for two chapters in a row.
> 
> Anyway, Gabe takes Sam on a joyride through the clouds and gets his face molested by a bird.

"Hold on tight," Gabriel smirks as Sam adjusts his grip. "Ready?"

He feels Sam nod against the left side of his head. Briefly considers that the poor kid might projectile shit himself the moment they take off. 

Gabriel has never taken a human into the clouds before. Not even a passed out or dead human. This is a new experience for both of them, and special, because it's with Sam.

Without any further hesitation, Gabe bounds forward two long steps, then leaps out over the canyon. He momentarily lets the combined weight of their bodies drag them downward in a scream-worthy free fall, then shoots upward just inches from the ground and they go sailing into the sky. 

Desolate North Dakota. Half prairie, half forested plateau. There's no one around for miles to be able to look up and see an apparently magical being floating in the air above the rolling grassy buttes. 

Gabe hovers for a moment, allowing Sam to adjust to the height, the sensation of flying without machinery enveloping him, and the wondrous shades of green that stretch vast and proud beyond even Gabe's line of vision. 

"You ready for some parlour tricks, babe?" Gabriel asks over his shoulder. 

Sam rests his chin on Gabe's shoulder and replies softly, "Do it."

Gabe smirks devilishly and, without warning, blasts straight through a thick, white cloud just overhead. Before Sam has time to react, he dives back down through the coverage and loops two laps around a thinner wisp of airy water. 

Sam is laughing and whooping in his ear, releasing one arm from around Gabe's shoulders and raising it heavenward, then the other, as if riding a particularly dangerous rollercoaster. Gabriel laughs, too, invigorated by his hunter's enthusiasm.

"This is amazing!" Sam shouts over the wind whipping around his head. 

"What'd I tell ya?!" Gabe calls back. He slows to a drift just above the shelf of clouds, where their chances of being seen are much lower, and peeks back over his shoulder as Sam lowers himself again so his chest is to Gabe's back. "Not too scary for ya, hotshot?" 

Sam lets out a hearty chuckle and shakes his head. 

"Like I said, I don't scare _that_ easy," he responds. Gabe just watches him lovingly for a moment. Those sunflower eyes like two more enormous orbs of fire hand-placed in the dull, greyish-blue sky. Suddenly, Sam adds, tone oddly concerned, "Hey, you should probably watch where you're going."

Gabe gets a laugh out of that. 

Training his gaze assuringly on his human, he remarks, "Right. As if there's oncoming traffic in the sk--"

A wall of feathers crashes into his right cheek, stuffs itself into his mouth, then promptly slides away with a distressed honk. 

Gabe stares, wide-eyed, at the sky zooming by to his left. He coughs to get the feeling of bird out of his mouth, and two light grey feathers shoot out and gently glide away.

Without a word, Gabe turns his head forward and obediently watches the sky in front of him, confounded and stunned.

After a few long and silent moments, Sam's voice cuts through the rushing air, stifling laughter, and says, "Gabe, I think you just deep-throated a goose. Are you alright?"

Gabe answers with a quietly rushed, "Let's just not talk about it."

The rest of the flight is cut short by Sam insisting they land so he can make sure Gabe is okay, albeit Sam does so while biting his lip to hide a smile. 

One thing Gabe is positive of: he is never taking another human for a ride again.

Obviously, it infuriates the birds.


	5. Embarrass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the pause in posting. I had to eat my dinner. Mum made chicken stir fry. And I'm tipsy because I'm drinking Truly hard seltzer. Amazing.
> 
> I think the title speaks for itself.   
And if you're wondering who's doing what...guess.

Sam glances up at his brother sitting at the other table beside Castiel. They sit with their shoulders touching, sneaking soft looks at each other and paging through an old book to scour for information about the Japanese legend KuneKune. 

Sam noticed recently that the two have become much closer; he thinks they finally screwed and got over dancing around each other. 'Bout damn time, in his opinion.

He smiles slightly and turns back to his own research. This is like nothing they've ever seen before. They have no idea how it got to America. The legend says that this thing stands in fields, usually rice fields, but it's being spotted in grain fields around here, and sways about as if being blown by the wind, even when there is none. If the victim attempts to investigate, they go mad and die in a freak incident. Because so many people are unaware of the legend, the mortality rate is already in the triple digits. 

Sam presses his fingers into the ridge of his forehead, letting his eyelids fall. He's been reading for hours, without even a break to eat. He's used to it, has done it before. In college, or when they get an especially baffling case like this. But after his late night up with Gabe, he's exhausted and maybe a little hungover. Not that he would ever let his brother or best friend know. Dean, for one, would never let him live it down. As for Cas? Well, now that he's spent so many years on Earth, specifically around Dean, Sam isn't sure what Cas would do. He'd probably find it funny but pretend to reprimand Dean for Sam's sake. He's chaotically kind like that.

Thankfully Sam's loudmouth boyfriend is nowhere in sight after scarfing down breakfast, kissing Sam on the top of his head, and rushing off to who-knows-where. He does that sometimes, but Sam doesn't bug him about it. Sometimes it's just more productive for Gabe to be getting his energy out somewhere else. Sam loves him, obviously, it's just...he can be annoying if he's cooped up in the bunker for too long.

So of course, when someone suddenly slams into Sam from behind and a pair of lips plants a wet kiss on his cheek, he rolls his eyes and lets out a sigh. 

"Hello, Gabe," Sam mutters, reluctantly wrapping his hand around Gabe's arm, mostly out of habit.

"Awww, you still crossfaded, my sweet Sammich?" Gabriel coos with puckered lips, arms wrapped around Sam's chest. "I should get you high more often. You're a real comedian."

Sam feels Cas and Dean watching them with smug looks glued to their faces. He doesn't acknowledge them.

"Gabe, I swear to--"

"Oh, I'm sorry, am I embarrassing you?" Gabe teases, rounding the back of Sam's chair to perch on the edge of the table. He feathers his fingers beneath Sam's chin and makes Sam look him in the eye. "You're so cute when you're grumpy and hungover. Like a big, giant, sleepy puppy."

"Oh my God, Gabe," Sam mumbles, cheeks burning. He turns his head away from Cas and Dean's prying stares and muffled snickering. "Can we please not do this now?"

Gabe pouts. Tucks Sam's hair behind his ear and leans down. When Sam meets his gaze, Gabriel offers a gentle, genuine smile. 

"Hey," the blonde man runs a thumb across Sam's cheek and sweetly kisses his forehead. His headache fades almost instantly. "I love you, Sam."

Sam's blush grows brighter, but he smiles down at his lap, then up at his angel. 

"I know. You too, you pest," Sam whispers back. 

Cas and Dean don't mention it again. Impressive, to say the least. 

Though, Sam was almost hoping they would, so he could make fun of them next time he caught them ogling each other


	6. Feather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hahaha hahahaha haha  
Writing this made me cry because I forgot to take my meds lmao 
> 
> No summary needed. This is just straight up angst because I'm an ass.

Day eighty-six. Two weeks without a shower. Dry shampoo is no longer his friend. His hair is greasy and sticks to his pillow. Not that he ever gets up. The breakfast that Dean brought in for him an hour ago remains untouched, now cold, on his bedside table. 

Dean had tried to talk to him again. Asked if he would at least sit up for a while. Maybe walk a few laps around the bed room. He didn't respond. Didn't even grunt. 

"Sam," he'd whispered, lowering himself to the bed. Reached out and gripped Sam's arm, desperate to get through. "Sam, please say something. Please."

Dean had started crying then. Dean never cries. It nearly shocked Sam out of his daze. He thinks he hears Dean crying in the other room still. Cas is probably with him, holding him, comforting him. 

Sam couldn't gather the strength to react. He feels too heavy. Dean doesn't understand. He hasn't lost his angel, yet. Not permanently. He doesn't get how the entire universe crushes down on Sam's chest every night, then lifts itself away and vacuums the life from his soul every day. Doesn't know what it's like to be so empty that there aren't even tears left to sob away into oblivion. No, Dean still has his angel. Still has his tears.

All that Sam has left of his love is a golden feather. It's as large as his forearm, soft and sleek, a sort of magnificent gleam to it that nothing on earth is able to emulate. And sometimes, it's heavier even than pressure of loss that leaves Sam gasping for breath. Sometimes he can't even look at it, much less hold it. Sometimes he sleeps with it on his pillow next to his head. 

Eighty-six days, and it's still pristine, enveloped in a peculiar aura of serene acceptance. 

Gabriel knew he was about to die. He was not afraid. He'd already lived so long. Sometimes Sam wonders if Gabriel thought about what he'd be leaving behind. Wonders if he felt guilt for it or if he somehow knew Sam would not stay angry for long. Knew that it would give way to unimaginable grief, and hoped eventually Sam could be happy again.

Sam thinks Gabriel purposefully left that aura on his feathers for him. Wishes it could help. Nothing helps. Probably because there is nothing left to feel.

At least, in the end, he never had to wonder if Gabriel loved him. 

And that will be Gabe's legacy. Those two things he left behind.

One golden feather and an endless, inextricable love for one human with greasy hair and an empty stomach.


	7. Government

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Like...you know I HAD to write this, right? I mean, there's no way I wasn't going to.
> 
> Anyway, you know the whole Storm Area 51 thing going on? 
> 
> Yeah. That.

"Gabe, look at me," Sam demands. "You are not doing this."

"Yeah? Who's gonna stop me? You?" Gabe jeers defiantly, crossing his arms. 

But his boyfriend won't budge. 

"You realise I have an entire ten inches and at least a hundred pounds on you, right?" 

Gabe just sneers and retorts, "And?! I'm an archangel, _buddy_! What can _you_ do, sit on me?"

"Uh huh," Sam replies sarcastically, eyes bored. "And what have you used that for lately? Summoning candy bars and mindless women who'll laugh at your stupid jokes?"

Gabriel gasps and clutches his chest in mock offense.

"I'll have you know, I made that butt plug that I gave you for your birthday. You weren't complaining about _that_ last night," the angel stabs a finger at Sam, whose face turns bright red. "So I don't care WHAT you say, I'm getting me one of those cute lil aliens."

Sam, cheeks still pink, sighs dramatically, evidently giving slack to the absurd fantasy, and offers, "Okay, fine. Say you make it past the guards and into the building unscathed. You snatch an alien, which you aren't even sure will be there, and bring it home like a pet. Then what? What, w-we keep it in...the dungeon? The garage? What do we feed it? You don't have a plan, and that's my concern."

"Oh, oh, that's your concern? Not me, I don't know, possibly _dying_\--"

"No, I'm not worried about that because you're a fucking archangel, Gabe, and archangels don't just get killed by guns. You said it yourself."

Cas and Dean watch in alarmed amusement as the hunter and angel banter back and forth. They've certainly had fights before - in fact, considering Gabe's overwhelming proclivity for chaos and madness, Cas and Dean are surprised this type of conversation isn't more commonplace - but this is...just straight up bizarre, for lack of a better term. 

For context, a few weeks ago, Gabe found out about this massive plan to 'storm Area 51' because 'they can't stop all of us'. Which, in itself, is not particularly shocking to hear about. All four of them are quite aware of the cynicism that runs deep in the veins of the nihilistic young these days, and their consequential capacity for doing things that are virtually guaranteed to go against every social rule and, in this case, will very likely get them killed. But then people started...seeming serious...and Gabe abandoned his usually ironic approach and announced he would _actually_ be marching on the mysterious government facility.

Really, he could just snap himself there and be done with this, so there's no need for this debate to be taking place. But, Gabe likes to make things more difficult than they need to be, while Sam is a complicated man, and his tolerance meter for his boyfriend's bullshit is caustically short, so as a result, there's something to be discussed. 

Though, Cas and Dean can't say they disagree - what would they realistically do with an alien that Gabe brings home? It's not like they have a manual on how to take care of an extraterrestrial. You'd certainly think Cas and Gabe's father would've built that in since some aliens are his own design, but apparently there was a whole dispute with the other gods about taking credit, blah blah blah, and he wasn't able to install that information because of trademark neutrality.

Long story short, Gabe wants to be on the front lines when around 3 million casually suicidal humans anime run at a lethally guarded government base in order to steal aliens that may or may not live there, and Sam doesn't think it's a great idea. 

"What?! Why my clothes?! You're the ridiculously short one," Sam prattles on, hands splayed out in a pose of bafflement.

Of course the comment does not faze Gabriel, who quickly responds, "I'm sorry, I didn't realise you were an _alien expert_. Tell me, what size is a proper alien supposed to be?"

"You expect me to believe that you think the government is capable of keeping Bigfoot-sized or larger creatures locked up at an air base? Obviously, they're gonna be small. Tiny, in fact, because what fucking human being in their right mind looks at a creature from outer space who's as big as me or bigger and goes, 'Y'know, I could beat that guy in a fight'," Sam sits up straight and throws his hands up, eyes wide. "It doesn't happen!"

"Okay, well, now you're just talking semantics--"

Cas and Dean don't stay to hear the rest of this. Clearly, this is going to take a while. 

That's okay. The tall nerd and his short trickster are sure to be snoring lightly, bundled together on the couch after tiring themselves out in a few hours. 

In the mean time, Cas and Dean are going to check out the alien exhibits at Area 51, again. It's their favourite date spot.


	8. Heretofore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay this is my favourite so far. And really beautiful. The only one I'm confident in tbh

It took years to get here. Years of stuttering admittances like skipping stones. Years of uncertain gazes like cracking bones. Years of fearsome touches like brushes through fine hair. It took years.

And nearly dying does something to a person, makes something in the brain switch on, a lightbulb. The audible 'ohhhh' of finally understanding. Branding euphoria into the eureka.

Gabriel had given his all and it had almost been his end. But then came Sam. Sam Winchester in his mask of fury, swiftly gliding in to sweep Gabriel up and envelope him in fierce protection. Master of the jury of defence, sealed by a shield of valour.

There is no right time to fall in love when you live forever. That was realised a long time ago. But Gabriel had been in love with Sam Winchester from the start. And until now, he's never had the fortitude to say it out loud. 

Until now, as Sam Winchester, with his big, warm hands and soft, kind eyes, allows Gabriel to curl up in the crook of his arm and let the tears run free, he has never felt the admission to be so important. 

It happens as if in slow motion. 

He says it in the sharp shadows of a whisper, "I love you."

And Sam blinks heavily, like his eyelids are iron lead, and he lowers his careful watch so sunflower rainbows meet earthy bronze hazels, and he curls his long and deft fingers around Gabriel's jaw. It happens as if in slow motion.

Eons stretch out between them as Sam tilts forward and his words come in nebular puffs of vibrant ashes, "I love you, too."

Then their lips touch and every fevered ounce of dreamlike cotton that had been tucked away in Gabriel's mind is pulled aside, like curtains parting on a dusty stage, or clouds disintegrating to reveal the sunny day. 

The 'ohhhh' of finally understanding, and it happens as if in slow motion.

Raw breaths turning ragged as they soak each other in, deprived of their ability to bloom for what feels like centuries, and the shade has finally disappeared and is replaced by hazy light. 

As if in slow motion.

Until now, it has been the most ambling race. They have finally found the finish line. 

They just needed a push in the right direction.


	9. Intern

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Are y'all ready for smut? Because this is...this is just...I mean the actual smut is pretty mild but like...the things said...it's just unadulterated filth

Mr. Winchester has asked Gabe to stay after hours. He's not sure why. He's worried he might be in trouble. 

But by 6pm, an hour after everyone has left, Gabe is starting to get bored. Is he supposed to be doing something? He's just been sitting here. 

He's checking his watch for the hundredth time when finally, his boss emerges from the spacious office across the room from Gabe's desk. 

Gabriel's breath catches in his throat. Mr. Winchester is handsome, tall, quiet. Calculating. He didn't become the CEO of the nation's most renowned law firm by luck. Despite the man's cold eyes, Gabe has often had work-inappropriate thoughts about him. 

He begins to panic. What if that's what Mr. Winchester wants to see him about? How would he know? Had Gabe let it slip to someone? 

"Mr. Novak," his low and steadied voice greets Gabe. "I'm pleased to see you stayed." The towering man slowly, deliberately sidles up behind Gabe's chair and leans down. Gabe can feel the breaths on his neck. Without warning, Mr. Winchester mumbles in a husky tone, "Do you find me attractive, Gabriel?"

Gabe's eyes blow up like balloons and he gulps, unsure how to approach the answer to that. 

After a few moments, his boss waiting patiently, Gabe replies, "Y-yes, sir."

"Call me Sam," the voice beside his ear commands. Then, "I'd like to hear the way you sound when you cum, Gabriel. Do you want me to touch you?"

Gabe is speechless. What. The. Hell. This came out of nowhere. He nearly considers that this may be a dream and actually pinches himself on the thigh to make sure it's not. And it's not. He can't seem to choke out an answer.

_Words! Say words!_

"I-I..." Gabe stutters, eyes fixed on the opposite wall and fingernails digging into his armrests. "I think I would enjoy that, s-sir."

The air turns dark around them. Wordlessly, Mr. Winchester - Sam - yanks Gabe's head back by his hair and dips his tongue into Gabe's mouth. The college student has never been kissed so fervently before. He carves his gratitude into Sam's teeth. 

A hot, oversized hand wastes no time plunging into Gabe's khakis and stroking his length through his briefs. Gabe's surprised noise is muffled by the lips sliding against his own. 

When those lips finally break away, Gabe is nearly breathless, white-knuckling the ends of his armrests and unable to lift his head. Partly because Sam still has his hair in a death grip, partly because he's being sapped of any control over his body by the hand doing magical things in the front of his pants.

As Sam shoves down the fabrics between his fingers and Gabe's cock, he begins growling teasing obscenities in Gabe's ear, things that are unspeakable in polite company.

"Would you like me to tell you what I would do to you, Gabriel," Sam murmurs. When Gabe just nods weakly, mouth agape in ecstasy, every muscle in his body trembling, Sam relents, "If I had you all to myself, you would never want anyone else again. I would make you crave me." A rough jerk upward on Gabe's dick and he gasps loudly. "First," Sam continues, lips wet on Gabe's ear, "I would blindfold you and tie your hands above your head so you couldn't touch yourself, so you couldn't stop me from tasting every inch of your body. I would tease you until you were begging for me to touch you. Then, I would kiss your thighs, so lightly you wouldn't be able to stand it, and I would work my way up to your tight little ass, and I would lick you until you were dripping wet, quivering at every touch."

Gabe whimpers, already shaking intensely, eyes screwed shut, breaths coming short and shallow.

"Then, Gabriel," Sam groans against the skin behind Gabe's ear, hand now squeezing just barely over the line of too tight, stroking Gabe languidly, methodically, "well, then I would put my fingers inside you, and I would let you just grind yourself down on them until you were so incoherent you couldn't even make sound anymore." An evil smile grows against Gabe's neck. He thinks he hears a maniacal chuckle from somewhere in Sam's chest. "And once I had you right on the edge, all spread out and so, so hard for me...I would push my big cock inside you, and I would start slow and gentle, so I could watch your toes curl in anticipation. And just when you think that's how I'm gonna make you cum, I'll shove myself inside you-" Sam yanks at Gabe's hair again "-and I'll fuck you rough and fast until you can't remember how to breathe. And every time I thrust into you, I would brush your prostate and you wouldn't be able to even move anymore." A stinging bite at Gabe's earlobe. "Then, after filling you up with my own pleasure, I would lean down and whisper that you're allowed to cum."

Sam picks up the pace as Gabe feels the warmth gathering at the base of his member, and he begins to let out stilted moans. 

"You would cum so hard for me, Gabriel," Sam grunts, fingers twisting in the hair at the base of Gabe's skull, teeth grazing Gabe's exposed throat. "You would have an orgasm like you've never had before, and then you would never be able to get your mind off of me. You'd beg me to fuck you everywhere. At home, at a restaurant, on the beach, in my office," he breathes warm air knowingly against Gabe's ear. "Cum for me, Gabriel. Cum for me, now."

Gabe does, his voice echoing through the empty top floor as he calls out Sam's name. He shoots his load onto the glass top of his desk, barely missing his keyboard. And as he's still recovering with hitched breaths, unlatching his fingers from the dents they've made in the leather armrests of his swivel chair, Sam perches on the corner of the desk, looks him straight in the eye, swipes the cum off the table, and sucks it off his fingers, all while gauging Gabe's reaction.

When Sam's satisfied with just how undone Gabe is, he smirks and crosses his arms, surveying Gabe, whose cheeks burn red as he hurriedly tucks himself back into his pants. 

"Did you enjoy that, Gabriel?" Sam asks, knowing full well Gabe wants to say yes but can't seem to figure out how to speak. "I'd like to take you on a date. Stay after work again tomorrow night. Dress..." Sam's hard eyes glide down and back up over Gabe's slack body, a grin creeping onto the lawyer's lips. "Dress business casual. Don't wear underwear."

With that, Sam Winchester, handsome, tall, quiet CEO, stalks back to the threshold of his office.

Before he shuts the door, he looks over his shoulder and adds, "You're free to go, Mr. Novak. I look forward to spending more time with you."

Then the door is closed and Gabe is left reeling in his tingling skin.

When he started his internship here, this was not what he was expecting. 

Maybe they should update the job description.


	10. Jealousy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam doesn't like that these girls are abusing Gabe's mild manner.

He shouldn't be jealous. Really, it's not like Gabe would ever do anything with anyone else without Sam agreeing to it first. And Sam trusts him, wholeheartedly.

It's the drunk, air-headed women shoving their tits in Gabe's face that Sam doesn't trust. 

They've brought home girls before. And guys. And even people of non-traditional genders. People without any gender. It's not unusual for Sam and Gabe to have threesomes, foursomes, and so on. In fact, it's a pretty regular occurrence. So much so that they have a room at home especially devoted to their conquests.

So no, Sam isn't jealous because the girls are attractive and young and exactly Gabe's type. In fact, he's not sure if what he's feeling is jealousy at all, though if it is, he wouldn't admit it. No, he thinks he's pissed because Gabe may be goofy and sly while he's with Sam, but he gets nervous and withdrawn in social situations where he doesn't have Sam to rescue him. And right now, these ladies are taking advantage of that, and Sam doesn't much appreciate it.

The last straw on the camel's back comes when the redhead leans forward with a fake laugh and lets her hand linger on Gabe's thigh. Sam's guessing she didn't ask to touch him. 

Being the massive man he is, Sam knows he could easily scare the living shit out of these girls with a few words, but he also knows better than that. Instead, he simply floats across the room, ignores Gabe's grateful smile when he reaches the arm of the couch, bends down, and kisses his boyfriend with a passion they usually reserve for private moments. 

Gabe makes a shocked noise, but laces his fingers through Sam's hair anyway, moving his mouth with Sam's, tongues swirling together. 

Behind him, Sam can hear the two women gasp, then growl in irritation. Once Sam makes it glaringly obvious he is not removing himself from his boyfriend any time soon, the girls whisper to each other, gather their clutches, and retreat into the pulsing crowd of other half naked people. 

Sam pulls back enough to let himself breathe and for Gabe to murmur, "Thanks, Samsquatch."

Then, Gabe pulls him down onto the couch with him, and they kiss again. 

Sam makes sure later that night to leave his mark on Gabe's neck in the form of several purple hickies.


	11. Kempt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ugh this is...idk awkward and choppy I guess. I don't really like how it turned out but idk how to fix it. 
> 
> But anyway, first kiss, Gabe's an ass and then he's not, the usual suspects.

That goddamn fucking man bun. Fuckin' stupid shiny hair all pulled back and neat. Gabe hates it. He hates it with a passion. He thinks that hair should be messy all the time. Lord Jesus, Sam would look _hot_ with messy hair.

He's seen Sam after a work out, and he _knows_ Sam is hot with messy hair. 

But what can he do? He can't just...snap it out of the bun. Then Sam would be confused and he'd know Gabe did it, since he's the only one who would, with the added variable of 'could'. He's gotta be sneaky.

Sam and Dean are in the kitchen talking about their current case. Something about a gnome or whatever. Gabe could be helpful but, let's be real, it's Gabe.

Sam is walking back and forth between the island and the counter, putting together a healthy dinner, to Dean's dismay, while Dean leans against the fridge with a beer in hand, scratching the scruff on his face in consideration of something Sam has said.

Gabe, being the sunshiny asshole that he is, pays no mind to the fact that they are in the middle of conversation, and waltzes in. 

He plops down on a stool at the island and promptly asks, "Hey, Sammich, wanna suck faces?"

The result it priceless. Sam trips over his own feet, sending the chopped onions he was carrying sailing across the room, and Dean chokes so badly on his sip of beer that he doubles over with terrified eyes.

Once the boys have recovered, they stare at Gabe with gaping mouths. Sam's face is the colour of the sunrise. Dean, still holding his drink, pivots on his heel and leaves the room without commentary. Polite of him.

Sam purses his lips inward and turns back to the cutting board on the counter by the sink, so his back faces Gabe.

He says nothing for a really long time. Gabe lets the silence curl its tendrils uselessly around his arms. 

"What the fuck, Gabe," it's a demand more than a question. 

"Oh, my apologies. I suppose I should have lead with, 'hi, Sam, how are you today'," Gabe replies mockingly. "Or would it have been better to just spin you around, dip you to the floor, and smash your face with mine? Because, you know, I believe in consent and that would have been morally unacceptable."

"Oh, my God," Sam mumbles, bringing a hand up to drag it down his cheek. "You don't just--you can't ask me things like that when I'm trying to--" Sam spins around and sighs in frustration. "I mean, shit, Gabe, I--what am I supposed to say to that?"

"Yes. Or no. Or even 'I need to think about that'," Gabe rests his chin on his hand, eyes sparkling up the hunter. "Whatever you're feeling at the moment."

Sam finally meets his gaze, jaw set, arms crossed over his chest. He's trying to be stony and resolute, but Gabe sees that spark, that little voice in him screaming 'say yes, idiot!', the one he sees when his hand lingers on Sam's shoulder, or when they lock eyes and Gabe smiles softly like Sam is the only other person in the room. 

"Gabe," Sam whispers, tearing his eyes away to sweep them over the floor.

"Yes?"

Sam again leaves a stretch of quiet to be tugged at like the tripwire on a trap door. 

Slowly, Gabe rises from his seat and glides around the island. Without thinking, he raises his hand to Sam's cheek. The blush deepens but Sam doesn't swat him away. 

"I wasn't joking, Sam," Gabe attests, eyes fixating on Sam's lips, which part slightly. He switches his gaze back up and adds, "I know it sort of came out of nowhere but I think we both know it's a bit overdue."

Sam only nods slowly, brows knit low and eyes watery. 

Gabe pushes a stray strand of hair back behind Sam's ear - his bun must have gotten messed up when he tripped and nearly shattered his teeth on the granite countertop of the island.

"Can I tell you the truth, Samsquatch?" Gabe watches Sam nod again. "I came in here with the intent to kiss you in order to fuck up your hair. I hate that stupid goddamn bun." Sam's eyes go wide and he scowls in bafflement. Gabe stifles a grin and continues, "But now I just wanna kiss you because I've sort of been meaning to for a while."

Sam's face softens as Gabe speaks. At some point, his hands made their way to Gabe's waist. They're standing closer together than Gabe thought. And suddenly everything is very loud. Every thump of Sam's heart in his chest, every rustle of fabric creasing at bent elbows, hell, even every blink seems to sound like hair scraping together. 

"Okay," Sam's voice slingshots Gabe back into this universe. "You can...do that--um, kiss me, I mean--"

Gabe doesn't even wait for Sam to finish that thought.

He lunges forward and connects their lips in an explosion of tension that's been building for more than ten years. One hand cradles the back of Sam's head and the other glues itself to his jaw. Sam's are still at first, then everywhere - in Gabe's hair, gripping his wrist, pulling him closer by the hips, combing up his back and trapping him against Sam's body. 

"Sam, I forgot to ask--holy shit, they're actually doing it. I'm out," Dean's voice travels back into the kitchen, then fades out again as he leaves once more. 

Gabe nearly laughs but he's rather preoccupied at the moment. And when that moment finally passes, he pulls back just enough to admire his handiwork.

Sam's hair is a mess - it sticks out in every direction, tangled in some spots, frizzy in others.

And it's the sexiest thing Gabe has ever seen. 

Sam starts wearing the bun solely so Gabe can mess it up.


	12. Language

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay this one is more smut but like....fluffy.
> 
> Deaf!Sam and his boyfriend Gabe have thought up some interesting ways to communicate during sex.

Sam breathes in sharply at the pressure against his rim. His fingers fist the sheets into clumps of sweaty cotton. Gabe's face comes into view.

"Are you still okay?" Sam watches Gabe's lips as he asks. It's harder to read lips during sex. Everything is slurred with lust and Sam's vision gets a little hazy.

Sam nods and, for good measure, rests a reassuring hand on Gabe's waist. Also a good idea in case he needs to tap out.

Gabe surveys his face, then leans down and kisses Sam with a careful intensity. He doesn't pull back when he slides in all the way. Sam's mouth falls open, his lip dragging against Gabe's cheek as the shorter man simply moves his kisses to Sam's jaw, his throat.

One of Gabe's fingers traces a word against the side of Sam's damp ribcage, 'More?'

Sam presses the sign for 'yes' into Gabe's back. He feels Gabe grin against his collarbone. The older man hooks an arm beneath Sam's right leg and pulls it up so Sam's knee is nearly touching his shoulder. 

The new angle pushes Gabe's cock into Sam's prostate, sending jagged tingles firing through every extremity. Sam feels himself let out a soft moan.

Gabe loves when he makes those little noises like that. Really the only time Sam uses his vocal chords. And what a way to use them. His lover once again levels his face with Sam's and smiles gratefully, raking his soaked hair back away from Sam's eyes.

"Feel good?" Gabe mumbles. Sometimes, Sam prefers when Gabe is rough with him to the moments like this, when he's tender and considerate, always checking in to make sure. But sometimes, when he's had a shitty day, he likes to come home to this. The Gabe who touches him like he might break. 

Sam smirks. Lunges upward to capture Gabe's lips in a heated kiss. Basks in the feeling of Gabe's dick filling him up.

"I'll take that as a yes," Gabe laughs when Sam drops back down with a dull thud against the old mattress. 

Sam lays a palm on Gabe's chest and, with a devilish grin that Gabe barely has time to process, shoves his boyfriend back and rolls their bodies over so Gabe is sinking into the bed with his mouth agape in surprise.

The taller man giggles silently, then drives his hips down - hard. The look on Gabe's face tells Sam that he _really_ liked that. So he does it again. And again. And again, until he's riding Gabe like a quarter powered kiddie carousel at the mall and Gabe is drilling his signature into Sam's thighs with his nails.

Sam loses himself in the rhythm, the draw of Gabe's cock along his prostate, the steady thrum of blood rushing beneath his skin. When you don't have sound to experience, every other sensation is like the first drink of water after days in the desert. Everything else is upgraded, and Sam wastes no opportunity to drench himself it in.

He gets so lost, in fact, that when Gabe laces their fingers together - their way of telling each other they're about to cum - he nearly topples over. Already?

Gabe promptly fires his load deep inside Sam's ass. Takes a long moment to breathe. Sam brings him back into this world with a ginger kiss on the neck, right where his blonde hair curls up to brush against the back of his jaw. 

It elicits a deep hum that Sam feels in his bones.

Before he can sign anything, Gabe heedfully manhandles him into a sitting position against the headboard and plants a feathery kiss on his forehead, then dips low and slips Sam's length slowly into his mouth.

Soft lips stroking his dick? Check. Two fingers knuckle deep in his ass, massaging his nerves? Yup. Quicker than Sam can think just how lucky he is, he's releasing himself in Gabe's throat with what he can only assume sounds like a mix between a whimper, a gasp, and a yelp.

Wiping his mouth, Gabe stumbles his way back up and gives Sam a gleaming smile. Leans in and kisses him, hungry but sated.

He may be deaf, but Sam doesn't need to hear to know the magnitude of love that Gabriel feels for him.

And he certainly doesn't need to hear to be fucked into the bed every night by the most sexually creative man he has every met.


	13. Malefic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another longer one. And I mean,,don't you think this is exactly how it would happen? Considering?
> 
> Gabe wins a bet against Dean who thinks Gabe won't kiss Sam because they've been avoiding each other for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Malefic  
(Mal-lef-ik)  
•Adjective  
-(loosely) to cause mischief

"Dean," Cas doesn't look up from his writing when he scolds the man. 

"Nnnn," Dean waves him off in a high voice, still smiling at Gabe with mischief. "I wanna see this happen. I don't think he's man enough."

Gabriel smiles back challengingly, spreads his arms, palms up, in a daring gesture, and starts backing away towards where Sam is sitting on the couch across the room. All the while, Dean has his arms crossed and is nodding, still certain in his conviction that Gabe won't go through with it.

Cas notices his older brother moving away and finally looks up, squinting his eyes, not sure whether to believe he'll actually do it or not.

Gabe spins around midstep. Makes his way to Sam, who does not notice his approach. 

When he reaches the tall hunter, Gabe plucks the book from Sam's hands and tosses it to his left in one swift move, never switching his eyes away from Sam's face. The human whips his head around, watching his book go flying.

When Sam looks up indignantly, he barely gets out an enraged 'Hey!' before Gabe is dropping onto his lap and slotting their lips. 

Dean's mouth drops open and Cas's eyebrows shoot into his hairline. From where they're situated, they can see Sam initially widen his eyes and freeze in shock, but then, slowly, his eyelids droop shut and his hands twist in Gabe's hair and shirt. 

They kiss for at least a full minute before coming up for air. And before Sam can say another word, Gabe hops up and struts jauntily back to his brother and hunter frenemy with a triumphant grin plastered across his face. 

As he brushes past Dean to grab the sharpie from the pen jar, Dean stammers, "N-no wait, hold up. I didn't think you were actually going to go through with it--"

"Aht! No going back on our bet. A deal is a deal, and you, my poor bastard, made a deal with the trickster of all people!" Gabe interrupts pointedly, pulling the black marker out and twirling around to spin a fingertip at Dean's sorry face. "Stupidly, I might add."

In the background, Sam finally breaks from his bewildered stupor and stands. Distantly clears his throat. He collects his book, grumbling to himself, and starts across the room to see what the fuck just happened. 

Meanwhile, Dean is giving Gabe a hard glare, punching his tongue into the inside of his cheek and huffing out his objection. Then, with some defiance, he offers his forearm to the archangel and looks away, not ready to face this disaster. 

Gabe laughs evilly, grabs Dean's arm with one hand, and begins drawing. His amusement bubbles over as Cas peeks with a raised brow at what he'll likely have to clean off his boyfriend later.

Sam reaches the group and sidles up to look over Gabe's shoulder at the image. 

Gabriel caps the sharpie, looking all too please with himself, and says, "Alright. Masterpiece revealed."

Dean shoots Gabe a warning glower then gives the drawing a quick glance and immediately looks away with a knowing cringe and a frustrated sigh.

He finds Cas's eyes and grouses, "It's a dick, he drew a dick," while gesturing to his now soiled arm. 

Cas only looks down with inwardly pursed lips, and returns to his studies. Sam makes a face.

Turns to Gabe.

"You made a bet, didn't you," more a statement than a question. 

Gabe nods, choked laughter catching behind his teeth.

Sam sighs outwardly and walks away toward his room. Dean flops into a chair across from Cas and lays his head down in his hands with melodramatic woe as Cas half-heartedly pats his arm, mildly bemused and not feeling sorry at all for his dumbass human.

And Gabe calls after the younger brother, "Awww, come on, now! We can still kiss and make up!" Then he trots off after the beanstalk, laughing.

\--

Later that night, after Cas has graciously poofed the crude drawing off of Dean's arm, he decides to visit Sam to see how he's doing - he's seen the effect Gabriel can have on most normal humans. He can't imagine how Sam, with his miserable crush on the archangel, must feel about being kissed as part of a childish wager between their equally childish brothers.

But when he rounds the doorframe to Sam's room, he stops short.

Sam and Gabriel are seated beside each other on the end of Sam's bed, kissing like teenagers. 

Cas backs away and swivels to head back to his own human's room. 

As he walks, a smile grows on his face.

Who knew all it would take was a stupid bet?


	14. Nostopathy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, last one for the night (probably). Again, a little longer. And definitely NOT angsty at all, no sirree. You WILL NOT sob if you read this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nostopathy  
(Nahs-top-eh-thie)  
•Noun  
-intense fear of returning to a place, most usually a home, or somewhere considered home.

It happens in the middle of a quiet lunch on the patio sheltered behind the bunker's grassy roof. 

Sam had invited Gabe to sit with him, even if he wasn't going to eat anything. He'd figured it was the least he could do considering what the archangel had just recently been through with the heartless knight of hell, Asmodeus.

Every time Sam moves too quickly or clears his throat, Gabe flinches a little, and Sam's heart breaks into smaller and smaller pieces.

Finally, Sam slowly puts down fork and whispers, "Gabe?"

The blond man's eyes twitch in the direction of Sam's voice, so he knows Gabe heard him, but he doesn't look directly at Sam.

"Please talk to me. Tell me what I can do," he begs, quiet as their shadows looming beneath them in the midday sun. "I want to help. But I don't know how. I need you to tell me."

And it happens.

After days of silence, Gabe's face contorts in anguish and a wretched sob tears from his chest as he keels over and covers his mouth with a trembling hand.

Sam closes his eyes momentarily, breathing a sigh of...he doesn't know what. Relief? Empathy? Sorrow? Whatever it is, it's tearing his mind in two. 

Silently, he stands. Circuits the table warily. Crouches low in front of the shattered angel and gingerly takes Gabe's hands away from his face. He moves listlessly but deliberately, conscientious so as not to frighten his sensitive new roommate.

Red eyes, glimmering with tears, train themselves on Sam's kind face. 

There's no sign of the prevailing panic that has marked their interactions the past few days. Just the harsh outlines of a hollowed, jagged man, once filled with so much mischief and joy. 

Sam doesn't ask his question again, simply waits. Patient, careful. His thumbs stroke patterns through the skin of Gabe's hands.

After several moments where it seems even the light breeze has stilled, biding to hear Gabe's fragile thoughts, he replies with caged and jaded words, dark as the bags beneath his eyes, "I'm so scared. I don't want to go back. I don't want to go back there."

Brows framed low, throat full of useless apologies, Sam tells him firmly, "You're not going back, Gabe. You're not going back." Slides his hands up Gabe's arms and allows the shorter man to collapse into him as the tears begin flooding over again. They sit on the concrete together and Sam rocks the angel back and forth, smoothing a hand back over his hair, cooing, "You're safe now. You're safe here. I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

He feels a morose helplessness creep over him, sinking its sharp teeth into his stomach and burrowing deep in his soul. He lifts his eyes heavenward. As if the answers will call out to him from the clouds above. 

But deep in his heart he knows the disastrous, immutable truth. 

Even God, himself, can't fix this one. 

\--

Two days later, when Sam is relaxing outside, watching the oak trees bow to the will of the wind, Gabe approaches him wordlessly.

Stands beside him for a few seconds. Lowers himself into the chair beside Sam.

There's a long, comfortable silence webbing between them. It breaks when Gabe curls his hand around Sam's arm, leans over, and kisses Sam's cheek.

"Thank you," Gabe breathes, soft as the air swirling around them.

Sam turns his head to find the smallest of smiles curving Gabe's lips. In awe, he only nods to acknowledge the gratitude.

Then, without missing a beat, Gabe tells him, "I've wanted to do that for a long time. Kiss you. When Hell got me...I felt so guilty. I'd waited too long. Had so many chances and never took them. And I don't want to waste the opportunity again."

All the oxygen leaves Sam's lungs as he switches between Gabe's eyes, unspeaking, unable to find words anyway. 

So again, he just nods.

Gabe splays a hand on his cheek, the other still gripping Sam's upper arm, and tugs the hunter closer until their lips meet.

They kiss as if they've kissed before, as if they know every corner and crevice, as if they could map each other's mouths without even thinking about it. As if nothing is changing.

And, perhaps, nothing does.


	15. Oxyacanthous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabe asks Sam to pose as Jesus for a photograph set, loincloth, thorn crown, and all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oxyacanthous  
(Oks-ee-ah-kan-thus)  
-verb  
•the state of being covered in thorns, especially in botany

Gabe pastes his shiniest grin and the cutest puppy eyes he can muster to his face as he holds out the off-white cloth and crown of thorns to his winter-bearded boyfriend.

Sam crooks his jaw to the right and blinks up at him boredly, arms crossed, entirely unimpressed. 

"I am not dressing up as Jesus for your dumb project; find someone else," the towering man insists, though Gabe spots a twinge of amusement in his eyes.

"Come on, Sammy! Please? You look _exactly_ like all the paintings," Gabe whines, trailing him into the kitchen of their shared apartment from their bedroom. "Well, mostly. You have prettier eyes, in my opinion."

"You realise all those paintings are inaccurate, right?" Sam posits over his shoulder, back turned to Gabe as he works on their dinner. "Jesus of Nazareth is middle eastern." He swivels around and leans back on the counter, brows lifted pointedly. "He historically could not have been anything other than brown-skinned. So I might look like the paintings," Sam pushes away from the counter and heads to the fridge, continuing, "but I look nothing like any actual Jesus Christ would have looked."

Gabe glares lasers into the back of his partner's head and huffs indignantly.

"Fine. Guess I'll just go ask Dean--"

Sam rounds on him with horror in his eyes and squeaks, "Okay I'll do it."

"Yes!" Gabe pumps his arm in victory and drops the props on the kitchen island.

"Just...stay away from my brother? Please?" Sam pleads, likely thinking back on the first encounter Gabe had had with the older brother in high school. It was not pleasant and Dean has had a passionate distaste for Gabe ever since. 

At least, that is, up until a few months ago. 

Dean always knew that Gabe and Sam were dating, but he seemed genuinely shocked when Gabe reached out to him to ask for his blessing to marry Sam. Since then, they've actually been in contact with each other several times a week, and have even met up in person, firstly to bury the hatchet, but also to coordinate plans and everything.

That's what Sam doesn't know, and why he's still terrified of Gabe trying to talk to his brother. He still thinks Dean would flip his lid if Gabe came anywhere near him.

Funny enough, Dean himself said that he regrets being such an antagonist as a teen, and he's been quite apologetic about the whole ordeal. It took a while, but when Sam first started seeing Gabe, Dean had eventually realised he wouldn't be able to hold that grudge for very long. Especially if it meant Sam would be miserable if he did.

And, in all honesty, there is no photography project right now. Gabe just needed a way to occupy Sam tomorrow while Dean sets everything up for the proposal, and this is a prank he's been meaning to pull for a while. Additionally, the photos themselves will make for great entertainment when they have guests over. Or even as a story to tell their kids.

Yeah, that'll be hilarious.

The next day rolls around and by 2pm, Gabe has nearly a hundred pictures of Sam just wandering around the little hidden shore they found a few miles down the road from the actual river beach. 

There are photos of Sam's profile, with him laughing open-mouthed and closed-eyed at something silly that Gabe said, then with him smiling serenely down at some minnows dancing around his ankles; of Sam from behind, standing in the shallows of the water, focused on something in the distance to his right; of Sam deeper in the water with the palms of his hands skimming the surface as it tumbled over itself in its never ending rush to get where it's going.

Then, there's Gabriel's favourite picture. It's one of Sam head on, zoomed in so just his body from the shoulders up is visible. In it, Sam's eyes are trained directly on the camera and they convey an aura of stoic wanderlust as they sparkle in their multi-coloured, sunflowery, indescribable sort of way. The crown of thorns is balanced atop his nearly shoulder length hair, which swoops away from his face far too perfectly for any human man. 

When Gabe captures that one, he realises it's not so much of a joke anymore. Realises he really sees Sam as this flawless, magical being. No wonder he's so infatuated.

As they wrap up, Gabe begins to feel his nerves doing a giddy dance. He watches Sam wind a cord around his hand and click the lock in place to keep it from unraveling. Sort of like how Gabe's heart is unraveling right now.

He feels the words crawl up his throat and burst from his mouth before he can register what they even are.

"I wanna marry you," Gabe murmurs. It's a soft admittance, but loud enough that Sam hears and whips his head around to stare at Gabe with surprise.

"Gabe?"

The shorter man shakes his head slowly, setting his tripod down in the trunk of their car, and closes the distance between them, crunching over the pebbly ground. 

"I had a whole thing planned," he gently takes the cord from Sam and runs his thumb over it, watching the movement. Chuckles lightly, "Sam, I was gonna blow you away with this huge proposal tonight. Bring you to the...the park," Gabe meets Sam's gaze with a wistful smile, "where you kissed me for the first time. It was gonna be so special and beautiful and perfect and we were gonna cry together and I was gonna kiss your lips and hug you really tight."

Sam simply brings his eyebrows down to trap his quizzical eyes beneath them. Wonders aloud, "What changed?"

"Asking now just felt more right. More organic, I guess."

Sam's eyes traipse away to as he mulls it over. Then, inhales sharply and mumbles, "I had no idea about any of this."

Gabe grins and nods, bragging, "That was intentional, sweety."

Another calm pause.

Then, "Dean is going to be furious."

Gabe screws his face up guiltily and explains, "Actually, he helped pick the ring. And he's the one who set up the proposal spot."

Sam stares blankly for a moment, then replies, "So...in other words...Dean is going to be furious."

"Yeah, probably," Gabe offers a wan smile. Then tentatively adds, "Or we could just not tell him this happened and still go through with the whole plan, and you can just act surprised and touched."

Sam tries on a disapproving look but it quickly cracks and he laughs, "Okay, let's do that. But only because he'll definitely beat you up if he finds out he did all that work for nothing."

Content with the idea, they smile adoringly at each other, share a chaste kiss, and return to the car.

When the 'Real Proposal' takes place, Sam is so convincing, Gabe almost believes the whole interaction earlier was a dream. 

And who can blame him, really?

For him, every moment he gets to spend with his Sam is a fantasy come to life.


	16. Pranks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What can Sam expect? Gabe is the trickster, after all. But after weeks of pies to the face and loose-screwed chairs, he thinks it's time to prank the prankster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also yes hi hello, me be back. I totally meant to post these yesterday and then...did not. Oops?

It's all set up. Now, he waits. Gabe should be home in mere seconds. It won't be long.

Sam crosses his arms over his chest and admires his handiwork.

And right on schedule, the door knob turns, and as the door begins to open, Gabe says, "Hey, babe? I was thinking--"

He opens wide enough to pull the string which triggers the whipped cream can and the dessert topping coats Gabe's face, stifling whatever he was about to say.

The shorter man stands motionless in the doorway as the can runs out of juice, hands at his sides and a pissed look on his face visible even through the whipped cream.

Sam nearly topples over in laughter, holding his stomach and closing his eyes, then stumbling forward to make it all better.

Gabe glares at him, which exacerbates Sam's amusement, and silently swipes some topping from his eye, looks disgustedly down at it, and shakes his hand vigourously so that it sloughs off onto the floor. 

The hunter 'awww's at him and bends down to kiss it off his nose.

Sam can't wait to see how Gabe gets back at him for this one.

He is the trickster, after all, and revenge is sweet.


	17. Quitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't want to give anything away but OH this is a good one. This idea is actually what motivated me to write all these.

Sam giggles as he runs in crooked lines through the tall wild grass which seems to tower over his 4 year old head in swaying stalks of pale green. 

The bright, full moon guides his way, reaching down with tender hands to remind him where he came from.

He peeks back over his shoulder to see if Dean is chasing after him. Before he can turn around, he slams into a solid mass and falls back onto his bottom.

After shaking his head to clear it from the impact, his eyes catch on bare feet denting the ground in front of him. Human feet. Attached to human legs. 

Sam looks up in shock and is awed by his sudden discovery of another boy, around his age, standing out in the field by himself.

He wonders if this boy is playing hide and seek, too, with his own brother.

The boy, in turn, stares back down at him, also seemingly shocked to have crossed paths with someone else in such an unlikely place, at such an unlikely time.

Slowly, Sam gets back up, brushing the crumbles of dirt and pieces of dry sod from his jeans. 

The other boy watches him with curiosity. Sam notices the boy is only wearing a piece of white cloth over his privates. It looks like a diaper made out of underwear material.

Just as inquisitive, Sam tilts his head to the right. He wonders if the boy wants to be his friend. Maybe Dad and Dean will let them play tomorrow while Dad is at work.

He starts noticing more things about the boy. 

He's about the same height as Sam, but he looks a lot different, too. Instead of straight, dark brown hair like Sam, he has curly blond hair that looks like a crown on his head. Instead of a pointed, upturned nose like Sam, he has a triangular nose that points down at the end. His skin is lighter than Sam's, too. Like the sand at Sam's favourite beach in Wisconsin, as if the boy hasn't been out in the sun a lot like Sam has.

Then, of course, the one glaring difference between them - six wings sprouting from the boy's shirtless back, three on each side stacked on top of each other like mattresses, furled feathers glimmering gold in the sodium beige of the night. They spread out a little more when Sam examines them, then bend back to show off their full humongous size.

Sam inhales in astonishment, eyes wide.

When Sam looks back down, the boy lifts a hand, pointing a finger at him. Words do not accompany the finger. He seems to be waiting for Sam to do something.

So Sam lifts his own hand, pointer finger extended, and they touch their fingertips together with dazzled wonderment. 

They only lock eyes for a second before the boy abruptly looks over Sam's shoulder in alarm and silently...disappears. Vanished into thin air.

A pair of arms wraps around Sam's waist and lifts him off the ground and onto his brother's hip. 

"Sam, what did I tell you about running off like that?!" Dean scolds, starting the trek back to the parking lot of the motel. "You could have gotten hurt."

Sam only gazes back at the spot where he bumped into the mysterious boy, trying to figure out if it was all just his imagination. Had Dean seen the boy, too? Is that why the boy disappeared? And how did he make himself do that? 

Dean's voice is background noise as he continues, "You're so lucky I got to you before Dad found out. He would be so mad at you, Sammy. You can't run off like that again, okay?"

The reverie breaks, slowly, like the syrup he puts on his pancakes when they go to a diner for breakfast, and Sam turns back to the motel with a tired blink, tiny hand curling in his big brother's shirt. 

He did not know it yet, but he would meet that boy again. A long, long time from now. 


	18. Reset

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically I sobbed when I wrote this k bye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I believe this is the longest one. Cause apparently I'm just writin whole ass novels now idk.

It has been three hundred twenty three years since the last human on Earth died. Since the pestilence that sparked the end of the world tore the earth's Heaven apart and left it a forgotten battlefield of ruins.

Those Angels who were lucky enough to escape the carnage remain as immigrants in the heavens of other Gods. But nothing will ever feel like home to Gabriel the way that Earth felt like home.

Long before the extinction of humans on Earth, his favourite human died. Not by gunshot or dangerous circumstance, the way they all expected he and his brother to go, but of old age, peacefully, in his sleep, with Gabriel by his side. The older brother had passed years earlier from an aggressive form of bone cancer which he'd begged Castiel not to cure him of. He'd been alive for so long already, so much longer than planned. Shortly after, Castiel had himself reset, unable to live without his Dean. Gabriel has held on much longer.

Gabriel's heart still lurches at the thought of his younger brother. Castiel went down in the destruction of their home and didn't come back up. Gabriel has had nothing for so long, has been alone and listless for so many centuries. 

Which is why, now, he silently floats down to the cracked ground, where weeds and ivy explode through the ancient pavements, shipwrecked cars and shrapnel from crumbling buildings creak in the breeze like old swingsets, and what used to be thriving metropolises now sulk in their own wilting shadows as the sun sinks below the crooked horizon. Mother Nature reclaiming her turf, rekindling her beauty in massive splotches of winding vines and proud trees. 

When his feet touch the soil, every memory rushes back to him in relentless waves, so nauseating he must lean against a rusted light pole, which droops with the weight of endless kudzu and a clueless amnesia that Gabriel envies.

He walks for what seems like hours, miles, street after nameless street, and as the houses become smaller and spaced farther apart, he begins to recognise the pleated landscape of overgrown corn fields and deep, ambrosial forests, speckled with ranches that now stand horseless.

And there he finds it, nestled deep in a colony of moss and leaves, parked just where they left it the very last time they drove it. She looks out on a stagnant field of wildflowers, standing loftily atop the grassy knoll that once disguised the bunker from prying eyes. She is faded now, after nearly a millennium of neglect. No one to shine her hood or change her oil or spin the tyres. No one to sit carelessly on her cracking leather seats or brush the dust off her sun-bleached steering wheel or scrape the weather from her rims. Her once-chrome fenders are dull, her paint peeling in spots where it's been scratched to hell by the surrounding shrubbery. But Gabriel loves her all the same.

For the memories she holds. And he had tried for a few decades to keep her as pristine as the older hunter, Dean, had. Because despite their many differences, they both loved Sam and they loved what Sam loved, and so they reluctantly loved each other. Brothers, for all their worth. And Gabriel loves this ridiculous car. But after a while, it became too painful. Touching her without the intent to crawl inside and curl up with his human on a starry night. 

So, for all his misgivings, he bends down now, and presses one last kiss to the passenger door where Sam had gripped the frame so many times, and he breathes an apology that he cannot quite put into words.

Then, in the span of a millisecond, the snap of his fingers, he is kneeling in front of a headstone, one that he has not been able to bring himself to read for what seems like eons. But he lifts his sallow cheeks to it now, clenched jaw to match the fists on his thighs. 

With a wobbling lip, he whispers, "This hurts so damn much, Sammy. You know if I had a choice, I would choose to stay with you." 

He tilts himself forward, tears beginning to streak his face, punching through his mask of strength to reveal his torment. And they start coming in oceanic waves and thunderous sobs wrack his body until he cannot breathe, he cannot see. They sting his eyes and tremble at the edges of his lip, then feebly drop into the empty cavern of his mouth, scarred by words he forgot to say or said too late. His teeth carve bony billows into his skin as the sobs swell to a peak.

Roughly, he rests his head on the hard edge of the monument, letting his saline sorrow drip into the verdant grass below, nearly giving in to the desire to pray that they will grow a new life from wretched bones.

Through burning grief, he croaks, "Please forgive me." Plants a shuddering kiss on the cold, unfeeling surface of the senescent past. "I will always love you, in this life and the next. So please forgive me."

He pushes away from the memorial with an echoed wail, and runs as far and fast as he can, in no direction in particular. 

And then he is gone, the only trace of him the fresh foot prints in the timeless dust.

He is back in the confines of the construction of their new Heaven, where his father works side by side with his children to rebuild all that they lost. At least, what can be rebuilt.

Gabriel, with red eyes, an aching heart, and weary soul, falls back into the colourless chair across from his dad. He does not meet the deity's eyes and they do not speak.

God takes his hand, gentle and full of regret. 

He slides his finger down Gabriel's palm, revealing a white button within - in all appearances, the harmless ghost of a feature unused. But it hides a harsh reality, and it is Gabriel's only escape.

"Last words?" God asks, knowing deep in his heart that this son has nothing left to say.

Despondent, Gabriel only shakes his head and once more the tears come rolling through, dancing on his lashes and plunging down on splotchy cheeks. He does not try to contain them now. In a moment, he will forget why he was weeping.

Silently, with sober fingers, God presses the button.

Everything goes white.


	19. Space

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *chanting* FIRST KISS! FIRST KISS! FIRST KISS! FIRST KISS!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Or maybe this is the longest one? Eh, whatever.

They've been alone in the car, parked in the alley, for 20 minutes and Sam already feels like he's been left to babysit.

Dean dragged Cas along to talk to the wait staff at this restaurant downtown about some shapeshifter who's been terrorising the citizens of the small city. When Sam had asked what the hell he was supposed to do while he waited, Dean had told him to 'just do some more research or whatever, I don't care as long as it's productive' so, like the defiant child he is when it comes to his brother bossing him around, Sam had crossed his arms and sat back and decided to do nothing instead.

He swears he heard Dean mutter under his breath as he turned around with Cas in tow, "Maybe you two can finally fuck and get it over with," but Sam can't be completely sure because sometimes he still hears things that aren't there. 

Shockingly, though, Gabe has not really said all that much. Hasn't even attempted to pester Sam with useless complaints. He's just sort of sat there, staring at the back of the driver seat as if it contains the answers to the universe.

Sam's not sure if he should interfere - if he says something, it might set the angel off on an irreversible tangent, but if he doesn't...well, he can't think of a problem with that besides maybe Gabe might self-destruct from not being annoying enough.

Deciding an imploded archangel would not be nearly as helpful as a not imploded one, Sam cranes his neck so he can look Gabriel in the face from his passenger seat up front and clears his throat lightly. 

"I'm fine," Gabe mumbles absently, tapping his fingers on the arm wrapped defensively around his waist.

Sam huffs and rolls his eyes, but doesn't let that be the end of it.

"You know, you're not nearly as subtle as you think," he comments, turning back to face the windshield once more. "And I'm not the emotionally distant ass that Dean pretends to be, so...if there's something you need to talk about, you can."

The sound of Gabriel's hair brushing the seat lets the hunter know that he's focused his distant gaze on the back of Sam's head. He doesn't turn back around. Allows the silence to flood the space, overflowing out the open the windows and into the alleyway.

Then, Gabe speaks, in a bruised and brandished hue of quiet, "Why did you help me?"

The query comes as such a surprise that Sam chokes on air and furrows his brows, swiveling slowly back to stare at the blond man. When he sees the hapless expression on Gabe's face, he twists his whole body to answer. 

"Why wouldn't we?" Sam asks breathlessly. 

Gabe lowers his eyes and gives his solemn confession, "l wasn't exactly a good guy. I killed your brother hundreds of times just to get back at you for getting between me and my games with the college students. What reason do you have to save me?"

Sam blinks slowly, remembering his infinitely relived Tuesday so many years ago. Remembering how he begged Gabe on desperate knees to let him have his beloved brother back. Remembering in vivid detail the way that Gabe's eyes had glimmered down at him with such unexpected mercy and guilt. Only for a second. One minuscule second. But that flash of humanity in Gabe's reaction. It sparked Sam's amnesty for the trickster.

Sighing, the brunette beanstalk rests the side of his head on the top of his seat and replies gingerly, "I'd be lying if I said I didn't still have some anger leftover from that. Which never ceases to confound me," Sam cringes briefly and continues, "My feelings for you from the beginning have been...complicated. Even more so after Dean died that final time, after you stopped the loop. I blamed you for that for a long time, and eventually realised that one was on me more than anyone. And over time that anger has resided. For the most part, I feel...well, that's not in important," Sam stops himself, thinking better of saying aloud what he really feels. "But, I never would have forgiven myself if I'd left you there. Whether you'd killed my brother or not. The thought of anyone, even you, suffering at the hands of Lucifer for who knows how long..." he looks down at the pristine carpet floor of the rental car and shakes his head. "I guess I never really got over being his Vessel."

There's a long moment where there is nothing to be said, because nothing _can_ be said.

Until the soft press of Gabe's voice, murmuring, "You should hate me."

A coarse smile strings up the corners of Sam's lips and a humourless laugh escapes them. He looks up from fiddling with his fingers and out the driver side window, fixing his blank stare on the service door to the restaurant's kitchen. 

"Well, unfortunately, I don't. And I don't know if I can." He switches his gaze back to Gabe with a bitter curve of his lips. "If I did, life would be far too simple...don't you agree?"

Gabe's eyes swerve off to the left as his brows twitch up in consensus.

The sound of Sam breathing and Gabe's fingers tapping his own skin. Cars honking in the distance and traffic whizzing by on the roads intersecting either end of the alley. A pigeon lands on the dumpster to their left and warbles, head jerking around to check out its surroundings.

"Sam?"

Their eyes lock. 

"Yeah?"

"What did you mean when you said what you feel isn't important?"

Sam pushes his brows in and up, lips parting. Drops his eyes again. 

In a shaded whisper, says, "I think there's some things you're better off not knowing, Gabe."

There's a distressed pause, a whirlwind of emotions gusting through the air vents.

Then, with stilted ire, "That's bullshit and you know it." 

This catches Sam's attention. His head jolts up, moon-sized eyes.

Gabe scoffs and leans forward, head on the back of the driver's seat, possibly to seem intimidating but it only makes Sam's heart flutter furiously.

"You can't ask me to open up to you and then pretend you don't have shit too," Gabriel mumbles fiercely, holding Sam's shocked stare. "It might not seem like it, but I do care, Sam. I'm not just a jerk in a hot bod. I can be a good person, too, when I try to be."

Sam can barely concentrate on the words, but they take him by surprise. So astoundingly gentle. 

The sentence tumbles from his mouth before he can stop it, slipping between hemmed teeth in shades of pink, "I'm in love with you."

Gabe's face falls. And in the two seconds between this and what happens next, so does Sam's heart, straight down into his gut, along with every rational thought in his body.

And then comes what happens next.

Without a word, they lean forward in synchrony and their lips collide like sacred supernovae painting the skies in thrilling tints of pastel pigments.

They kiss slow and tender, taking the time to slide hands across cheeks and entwine fingers in overgrown hair, to breathe new life into words died in fearful throats, to fill a space they'd been wary to fill for so long. 

Just as they pull back, the service door squeals open on rusted hinges and Dean and Cas's voices follow it into the echoing corridor. 

Booted footsteps carry them closer.

"Uuhhhh," Dean questions, leaning down into the open window. "You two done making out?"

Sam's face scrunches in irritation with riled dimples and lets out an indignant huff.

"Fuck you, Dean," is his only reply as he sits back in his chair.

As Cas swings himself into the back seat behind Sam, he remarks, "What'd I tell you, Dean?"

Dean makes a face and retorts, "Ehhhh, shut up."

The ride home consists of Cas teasing Dean for losing their bet and Sam's quick glances back at Gabe laced with small, nervous smiles.

They have a lot to talk about when they get home. But for now, Sam's got that kiss fresh in his memory.


	20. Topple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Idk just the usual Grumpy Person A and Sunshiny Person B, tooth rotting fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is it with me and established Sabriel? Maybe I feel bad for that one long fic I did where I killed Gabe lmao.

With lips pursed inward and eyes squinted, Sam pulls a block from the very bottom of the wooden tower. 

He'd insisted on playing when Gabriel had entered the living room an hour earlier, sweeping irked eyes over the area. He hadn't wanted to talk about it, though Sam had ardently offered his support. 

So, in a bid to cheer up the perennial grump, Sam had set up a game of Jenga, and Gabe had reluctantly plopped down on the couch across from him and started playing.

But his mood seems to have only declined as the game has progressed, and now, when Sam switches his challenging gaze to his angel's unimpressed face, Gabe lifts his hand and smacks the entire structure over. 

Cheap wooden sticks topple onto the coffee table and go skittering across the hardwood floor. Sam only glares from his spot on the rug. 

Wordlessly, he stands up and pretends to walk away from the mess. But at the last second he pivots on his heel and lunges at the back of the couch, throwing his arms around Gabe's neck and pressing a wet kiss to his cheek.

The shorter man folds forward with the force of Sam's entire weight and they both tumble to the floor in a mass of tangled limbs and a giggling giant puppy relentlessly pushing slobbery kisses into his shocked boyfriend's skin.

Of course, Gabe protests and cries out in disgust at first, but it does not take long for him to give in to his human's sweet laughter and insistent pecks, and soon he's letting the hunter kiss him with an audacious smile.

Okay, so maybe next time, Sam will just kiss him silly to cheer him up.

Evidently, Jenga is inferior to this method.


	21. Unstitching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oops, my finger slipped  
Anyway this needed to be mended. They shared a tender moment during this scene and no one can convince me otherwise

Sam winces as he snips the thick thread away from Gabriel's lips and the angel's face twitches away from his touch in fear and probably pain.

Despite Sam's gentle hold, Gabe is wary of being hurt again. And Sam's heart is in shambles. He has never seen his angel so wrecked before.

When Gabe had died at the hands of Lucifer, Sam had forced himself through the grieving process, albeit away from the prying eyes of his brother and best friend. He had mourned and then, he had told himself to buck up and move on. And for a while, he thought he had.

Until he saw his Gabriel cowering in the corner of that dirty cell, unable to cry out for help. His resolve had snapped then, and a brand new ferocity had swept over him like a crashing wave of anger. Sam decided he'd do whatever he had to to get Gabe out of there.

Now, here he is, a jumbled portrait of the angel he used to be, situated on the edge of a spare bed with his arms wrapped tightly around his midsection and his eyes looking everywhere but at Sam. 

It is the most pain Sam has ever felt, and he has died more times than he can count. Has lost his actual soul in Hell. But this is unlike any torture he's endured. His angel, battered to a husk and forced into silence.

Sam's face twists in anguish and tears begin to flow freely from the cage of his lashes. He trembles as he cuts the next stitch and of its own accord, a quiet sob escapes his mouth. 

Slowly, Gabe lifts his gaze to Sam's, then his hand to Sam's cheek, and as his own tears gather in the corners of his eyes and he looks desperately to Sam for some semblance of closure, he leans their foreheads together and they bawl away their despair, latching onto to each other like lifelines on a sinking ship.

They weep their weight in tears until they have nothing left to wipe away but blood and dirt. 

With a determined sniffle, Sam cuts away the last suture, Gabe still clutching at his jaw. Sets down his scissors and takes Gabe's face in his hands with fervent melancholy.

He turns his head and presses his lips into Gabe's palm. Strokes his thumbs across Gabe's marred skin.

And they sit together, full of heavy exhaustion. And they feel old and bleary, but they hold each other up with the tiny spark of hope that lives between their brushing flesh. 

Nothing but unheard prayers for a miracle and the dwindling flame of fruitless wishes to fill the holes in their aching hearts.

And they stay like that, leaned together in stubborn hope, for a long, long time.


	22. Viral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabe causes mischief, as usual  
Sam gets angry about it, as usual  
And they kiss and make up, as usual

When Sam enters the library at 9 in the morning with hair like a rat nest, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Dean and Cas are already there, huddled over Dean's phone screen, stifling snickers. 

Thinking nothing of it, Sam only yawns and waddles back into the kitchen to make coffee. It's supposed to be a sunny Sunday morning, so he plans to chug a cup or two of straight espresso, courtesy of the fancy new coffee machine he picked up from Best Buy the other day, and go for a brisk jog out to the graveyard a mile and a half up the road from the bunker and back. And nothing is going to stop him. He needs this. He's felt so cooped up with the dismal winter weather lately. And depression has been weighing down on him hard.

He blows out a weary sigh and rests his forehead against the cupboard above the counter to close his eyes for just a second while his water heats up.

From the entrance to the kitchen, he hears hissed voices cut by bursts of boyish giggling. He does not turn around. Not his area of focus right now. So. Fucking. Tired.

That is, until someone clears their throat behind him. 

Sam whips around, cranky face poised to nag whomever dares to bother him at such an hour, but stops short when he spots the grin that Cas is wearing, Dean smiling just as bright behind him.

"What the fuck," Sam sighs, just knowing in his soul this can't be good. "What do you dumbasses want?"

Dean blows a raspberry trying to stop himself from erupting into fits of hysterical laughter, so Sam sets his jaw and, with bored eyes, swipes the phone whose screen Cas is hiding against his chest.

A video. A stupid YouTube video. Of what seems like snow? Judging by the place it's been paused at, one second in. _This_ is what they've been freaking out over? 

Sam gets a bad feeling in his gut. Obviously, there is more to this.

Sceptically, he taps play. 

The first two seconds are just the camera angled at the ground with suspiciously familiar chuckles coming from the camera person.

Then, the camera pans up to reveal a man running from the crunchy snow on the ground towards a patch of ice where he lands on his feet and glides forward like riding a skateboard. Right before losing his balance. His legs fly up in front of him and his eyes go wide as the sun as he throws out a hand to catch himself, then lands promptly on his ass and continues slipping along on the ice until he crashes into a mound of snow.

All of this takes place before realisation dawns and Sam finally registers what he's watching. The man is him. The video is of his unfortunate incident last week, when he dared to act like a kid for one goddamn minute. He remembers the gut-sinking feeling of flailing through the air before coming down hard on the icy pavement, and then the humiliation when he emerged from the snow pile to find that his brother and their angel companions had seen the whole thing.

And, seeing the view count, he feels just as mortified now, but mixed with a seething lividity. He doesn't even need to scroll down to know exactly who posted this.

Caffeine forgotten and, frankly, no longer needed, Sam slams the device down on the counter, ignoring Dean's offended 'Hey!', and storms out of the kitchen and down the hall to the family room, where he finds exactly who he's looking for. 

Gabe is reclined on the couch, reading a book, sucker stick hanging from his mouth and a disgustingly smug smile on his stupid face.

Sam is going to wring his fucking neck.

"Are you kidding me?!" 

The archangel jerks his head toward Sam and watches with shocked eyes over the back of the couch.

"Wh--"

Sam cuts him off before he has a chance to be any more of a twat, because honestly, at this point, he doesn't even know if he's willing to forgive the jackass for the video, much less anything else he says or does now.

"Two _million_ people, Gabe!" Sam's voice rises as he advances on his maniac of a boyfriend. "You just had to be filming, didn't you?! Fuck you, you shiny dickweasel! I hope that halo falls off your head and directly into your--"

His ranting abruptly chokes off into a muffled yelp of surprise when Gabe yanks him down and smothers his lips with a kiss. Sam is pitched over the top of the couch from the force of it and as much as he tries to gracefully land on top of the angel, they both plummet to the floor, though Gabe does not stop kissing him.

When the blond fucknugget pulls away, beaming, he doesn't give Sam the room to protest.

"I did it cause I love you and you need to lighten up," he says firmly. "I would've thrown a lamp at you, but you could beat me in a fight so I went with the thing that had less direct consequences."

Sam shakes his head in bafflement, still wanting to throttle the angel but trapped under Gabe's unmoving body. 

"You were getting sad and impossible to be around. If I could snap the snow away for you, you know I would. But I can't because I'm not a monster, Sam. Those poor animals need their hibernation!" 

This is getting more perplexing by the second, but Sam can't think of a conversation with Gabe that _hasn't _gone weirdly.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Sam demands.

"I want you to be my happy Sam, again!"

Sam pointedly makes his eyes wide and incredulously replies, "And you thought the way to do that was to embarrass me?!"

"It's not embarrassing, it's funny. You're funny. That's why I love you. Because you're clumsy and easily flustered," Gabe finally swings his leg away and lets Sam sit up, but doesn't release Sam's arm from his grip. "Laugh at yourself, Sam. You can't keep caring so much about every little thing just because it keeps you occupied while the weather is shitty. When you make your own things to laugh about instead of stress about, the world stops sucking so much."

Sam is taken aback by the gentle but stern attitude adjustment. 

Sometimes, he forgets that the reason he and Gabe work so well together is because of this. He can really get a stick up his butt sometimes and Gabe is always there to balance him out, to look him dead in the eye and tell him he's being a buzzkill. 

The hunter's face softens as he calms down, but he still rolls his eyes when Gabe's response to his whispered 'Thank you' is a sarcastic, "You better believe it, bitch."

Annoying as he is, Sam is stuck with him. And, times like this, that's not such a bad thing.


	23. Wrists

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just some precious smut.

The rope bound tightly around Gabe's hands, hips, and ankles is just barely too scratchy. He's slobbering all over his ring gag and his jaw is getting tired, but he's just as invigorated as he was when Sam tied him up two hours ago.

He is suspended from the ceiling by his wrists and one leg. The other leg is tied so his heel touches the back of his thigh, and the rope around his knee trails back up to connect with the rope on his arms above his head.

He's blindfolded and squirming, whining for Sam to touch him again. He revels in the pain of remaining on the edge of coming for so long. Loves when Sam plays this game. 

The rules are that any time he tries to move himself or grind down on Sam's fingers, they start over. He's been especially squirrelly today. 

Sam's warm hand ghosts across Gabe's ribs, sending shudders jolting up his spine.

"Are you going to behave this time?" Sam whispers against Gabe's ear, brutishly squeezing his hips.

Gabe nods vigourously, at least to the best of his ability with his head trapped between his aching arms.

"If you break that promise, I'm taking you down," Sam warns jeeringly, tracing his fingers slowly up and down Gabe's neck, "and fucking you the old fashioned way."

Gabe nods once more, assuring his understanding.

Sam's presence at Gabe's back slips away and returns with heat between his legs. The taller man's lips drag slowly from Gabe's knee up his inner leg, and eventually find his hole again. A finger breaches alongside the tongue, probably wearing some banana flavoured lube, and soon Sam's mouth is moving back up to Gabe's throbbing dick.

Gabe whimpers and pants and his muscles seize up but he does everything in his power to stop himself from rocking against that teasing finger. 

Sam blows cool air up the length of Gabe's shaft and presses a second finger in with the first. He hooks them and strokes the bundle of nerves leaning against Gabe's wall, and it takes every excruciating fibre of Gabe's being not to push back into that euphoric sensation.

That damn tongue teases against the slit at the head of Gabe's cock and he lets out a quivering sigh.

He feels Sam reach up and the ring gag is removed from his mouth. Cold spit follows it out in strings and sags onto Gabe's chin.

"Beg me to fuck you," Sam commands, marked by a harsh jab at Gabe's prostate.

"Please," Gabe manages to blubber out, but he knows it's not enough.

"'Please', what?"

Another rough stroke against his nerves and he twitches with pleasure.

"Please!" Gabe gasps, nearly choking on air, back arching so his chest rises to the ceiling, but he still does not let himself move against the fingers inside of him. "Please, Sam. I want you to fuck me. Need you inside me. Please. Fuck, please please please."

Sam chuckles low and dark, and replies, "That's what I like to hear." His nails traverse Gabe's side, leaving red trails that Gabe can tell broke the skin in some places. He mewls at the sting of the scratches and Sam adds, "My beautiful angel. Love seeing you like this. So helpless."

There's a tint of amusement to Sam's voice that makes Gabe shiver. 

The blunt tip of Sam's member pushes against Gabe's stretched hole, and he guesses Sam has had enough of the teasing as much as Gabe has, because he crams himself into Gabe with a grunt, nails carving deep graves in the flesh of the angel's ass.

A moan from low in Gabe's chest forces its way past his lips, which are now free from the forced O-shape of the ring gag. The sound echoes through the room and smooths itself over their conjoined bodies like a layer of chilled cream. 

Gabe is certain it rings sweet like a gospel song in Sam's ears, because the taller man groans, hooks an arm around Gabe's waist, and begins to pound into him like Sam has been drowning and Gabe is the oxygen he so desperately craves.

Lips leave tracks of saliva along Gabe's chest and wrap themselves around his pebbled nipples, sucking them away from his skin. Teeth bite down hard on them, then Sam's tongue smooths itself over the sharp pang, and all the while Gabe's prostate is being battered by his human's greedy length.

With the catalyst of Gabe's bleated begging, it isn't long before Sam is unloading himself deep inside Gabe's ass.

Sam gets a firm grip on Gabe's cock and tugs lightly, instructing him to keep pleading. When, finally, Sam is satisfied with how much of a wreck Gabe has been diminished to, he orders Gabe to cum, and like a good angel, he does.

In the hours that follow, Sam makes sure to rub lotion on the places where he rope chafed at Gabe's skin, and massages the knots from Gabe's back and neck, breaking to leave ginger, lingering kisses on each of Gabe's joints.

Praise is breathed like quiet orison against the shell of Gabe's ear, and, when it is eventually time to go to bed, warm, gentle arms wind around Gabe's bare body and pull him into Sam's chest.

Gabriel falls asleep to Sam murmuring sweet adorations against his hair, wrapped in warmth and endless love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just because Gabe could poof himself better does not mean he doesn't deserve aftercare too 😤 fight me


	24. Xiphoid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Human!Gabe has trouble sleeping.
> 
> As usual, I have to get a little creative with these last few letters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Xiphoid  
(Zif-oy'd)  
-adjective  
•anatomical; part of the sternum

Sam wakes to his bedroom door creaking open. 

Silhouetted against the dim hallway light seeping past the threshold stands someone of short stature with shaggy hair and a voice that could sing to the stars but which traps itself behind a cage of bone. 

"Can I sleep in here tonight?" Its whispered plea scampers across the room and sheepishly winds itself around Sam's drowsy head.

He croaks out a slumberous 'Course' and opens his comforter to the childlike shadow as the door closes.

Six soft footsteps pad gratefully across the room and the bed dips beneath the weight of Sam's now-human companion. 

Gabe crawls across the space and silently deposits himself on top of Sam as the hunter drops the sheets back down.

He rests the side of his head on Sam's bare chest, skin to clammy skin, and curls his hand up near his own face as his eyelids droop. Their legs tangle and Sam loops his arms protectively around his soulmate's waist, leaning his head back and letting his eyes close as well.

Gabriel is snoring before Sam can breathe a goodnight.

He just smiles faintly to himself and drifts off back into the void of blissful darkness.

It's the best sleep he's gotten in weeks.


	25. Yomp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is a jackass. And so is Gabe. Must they always one-up each other with the jackassery? Yes. Yes they must.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all better appreciate these, I'm staying up late to post them >->
> 
> Yomp  
(Yahmp)  
-verb  
•to walk or trek labouriously, esp. over difficult terrain

Gabe squints, buzzing with anger, at the blond haired hunter standing in front of him with crossed arms and a triumphant smile.

Dean thinks he can just eat the last Twinkie and get away with it? Hoh, no. No no no no no. Gabe is going to get back at him for this one. 

Having the audacity to be the self-satisfied brother of Gabe's boyfriend is one thing. But eating the last Twinkie that Gabe specifically saved for himself? That crosses the line.

Sure he could make this a lot easier by not being a child about it for once, forgiving the human, and conjuring up a whole pile of Twinkies in the centre of the kitchen or something, but when has he ever chosen to take the high road? 

Well, he's certainly choosing _a_ high road, this time.

He sneers to himself at that thought.

Then, he pastes on a delightful smile and joyously watches Dean's face fall. The hunter knows immediately that something very bad is about to happen.

Wordlessly, Gabe spins on his heel and walks away. Up the stairs of the main entrance to the bunker, out the airtight front door, ascending the concrete steps, and traipsing onto the driveway. Just as Dean bursts through the front door with Sam hot on his heels telling his brother to chill out, Gabe rests his hand on that precious Impala and snaps his fingers.

In an instant, he appears at the base of a mountain. He could certainly poof himself to the top, but he wants to take his time. Put some effort into this one.

So, cheerily, he grabs the back bumper of the car, lifts it slightly, and begins his trek through the frosty snow to the peak of Mount Foraker, vintage luggage in tow.

It takes several hours, but he makes it without breaking a sweat. Gingerly, Gabe balances the car directly on the apex of the mountain. Tilts his head and smiles at his handiwork. Then, snaps his fingers once more and the front door of the bunker blinks into existence.

Gabe knocks merrily on the metal and seconds later the door swings open to Dean's worried face. The hunter's eyes widen, but Gabe only pushes past him into the entryway.

Dean trails him down the clanging stairs. Sam's head comes up as Gabe approaches and the younger brother's eyes go equally wide. 

"Where the hell--"

Gabe stops Sam from speaking by holding up a patient finger.

He turns to Dean and calmly explains, "This is a game we like to call 'Scavenger Hunt for the Thing You Love Most'."

"What the fuck did you do to my--"

"Your precious car," Gabe silences him as the angel perches on the edge of the table beside the chair Sam is seated in, "is somewhere in Alaska." He leans forward as if speaking to a child and whispers jauntily, "Good luck."

Dean's face fades into a raging red and he screams, "I'll fucking kill you, you rat-faced crackhead!"

In one swift move, Sam rises from his chair, floats over to his brother, and grabs him by the shoulders to lead him away so that the bunker continues to remain angel-murder free.

That night, Sam plops down onto the sofa next to Gabe and fixes him with a scolding glare.

"Why did you do that?"

"He ate the last Twinkie, Sam. That's unforgivable."

Sam closes his eyes and turns his head away, sighing in irritation. 

"Gabe, you cannot just...wait, what _did_ you do with the Impala?"

An evil smile creeps onto Gabe's lips.

"It's the newest décor at the top of Mount Foraker. Think the locals will like it?"

Sam's eyes nearly explode from his sockets. 

"Gabe!"

"Yeah, yeah, calm your tits, Samsquatch," the angel waves off the panicked stare. He snaps his fingers a final time and then looks to his human with balky reassurance and grumbles, "His priceless Impala is back in the driveway."

Sam purses his lips outward, but shortly breaks into a reluctant smile.

"You know I think that was hilarious, right?" The hunter quips, smile growing.

Gabe lets his own grin return in full force as he looks down at his lap over crossed arms.

"It totally was, wasn't it?"

"And you're too petty for your own good," Sam tacks on, but he throws his arm around Gabe's shoulders and pulls him into a hug, pressing his lips to Gabe's temple. 

"Whatever. You love it."

Sam doesn't argue.


	26. Zubrowka

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because you know I had to include one about a drinking competition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zubrowka  
(Zoo-brow-kah)  
-noun  
•a dry, straw-coloured liqueur flavoured with various herbs; chiefly Russian (but for obvious reasons I made it Enochian instead)

Tiny shot glass in abnormally large hand, Sam slams back two fingers of the sickly sweet and grassy tinged liquor. 

"Yeah, still nothing," he muses as he sets the glass down in front of his archangel counterpart. "You really have a knack for over-selling things."

Gabe growls in frustration and points an accusatory finger in Sam's face, spitting, "You don't know what you're talking about. This is the most potent alcohol in the Milky Way Galaxy. You're just a gigantic freak."

"I will admit," Sam raises his brows mockingly and smirks, "I can imagine it takes a lot to get an angel drunk. Hell, I once had to babysit Cas after he decided to consume an entire liquor store. But I think the problem here is that you," he points his own finger back and Gabe feigns offence, "are a cherub."

Gabe gasps, hand to his chest, and whispers, "How dare you?"

That only elicits a satisfied laugh from Sam, who pours himself another shot.

"Listen, if you can outdrink me," Sam raises his glass between their faces, "I will take it back." Gabe squints, so he graciously adds, "And I will say, out loud, that I am a gigantic freak and you are the most amazing angel who has ever existed. Deal?"

Gabe sits back in his seat, juts his chin out, and coolly replies, "Challenge accepted."

\--

Hours later, Dean walks into the sitting room with his dinner and Cas in tow, and stops dead in his tracks when he finds the two men passed out on the couch, Sam sitting on the floor with his upper body leaned against the cushions and Gabe face down with his arm dangling off the edge.

"Uuhhhh," he voices, eyes sweeping over the bizarre scene. 

Cas steps up beside him to survey the madness - there are two nameless, clear glass bottles knocked over on the rug beside Sam, who clutches a shot glass in his lap, and several dirty plates that Dean assumes once held food. The television is flashing brightly coloured cartoon characters across the screen at low volume and he's pretty sure that's Sam's shoe hanging from the top right corner of it.

Without another word, Dean looks to Cas to share their tacit bewilderment, then they turn around and walk out of the room together, leaving the chaos behind them.

Sam's a big boy. He can clean this one up when he wakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And finally, we come to the end, yet again. I leave you with this short and sweet drabble about the boys being competitive.
> 
> Until next time, farewell my dears.  
Yours truly


End file.
